


who would buy our burdens?

by cassiandameron



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:56:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiandameron/pseuds/cassiandameron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bombur was too young to remember. Sometimes he thinks he can catch a memory in the red edge of Gloin’s whiskers or Thorin’s wrinkling smile, but it fades much too quick for him to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who would buy our burdens?

**Author's Note:**

> A Bombur family ficlet that i've been wrangling for a while now. please leave feedback if you have any~

Bombur sees it in the way the journey wanders on, chipping away at each warrior piece by piece. He supposes it’s better than having to watch his own brothers rusting away in disuse in their cozy cottage.

Though, at least then he had his lovely family to comfort him. His beautiful wife, she always seemed to know when he’d spent too much time in his thoughts and strayed too far. But here in the cold darkness of Mirkwood, there’s no such distraction.

Bombur’s eyes scan the camp, keeping an ever watchful gaze on his companions.

Yes, he can see them cracking. He had no doubt adventuring would result in such. Bofur had not been the same since their cousin’s crack in the head. Bofur, who was always filled with winning smiles and hearty jokes. It weighed on him, the burden of Bifur’s accident.

It weighed on the both of them. Bofur had always claimed a heavy load since their father had died and left them nothing but a fading mother and an empty house.

Bombur was too young to remember. Sometimes he thinks he can catch a memory in the red edge of Gloin’s whiskers or Thorin’s wrinkling smile, but it fades much too quick for him to keep.

He figures he’s better off without the memories. Memories are what makes Bofur’s words so rough and Bifur’s mind so scrambled. It’s the reason why they’ve begun to fall apart. Bombur can connect the lines between Bifur’s mind and Bofur’s sharp tongue like he can connect Thorin’s stormy gaze to the young ones and their forced laughter.

It’s in family. It’s in the bloodshed and scars gained for the love of a brother, of a cousin. It’s why Bombur and Bofur were so quick to join their cousin’s side, from the moment that axe hit its mark to the moment Thorin called for aid.

Their fates were tied in a mess of wiry string. Battle-hardened brothers doomed to protect until they finally strangle themselves for one another.

Bifur had always been there for them when he wasn’t off on some adventure. After fulfilling his duties to their king, he’d always return to Bofur’s home. He’d stepped in when there was no father to take them by the hand and teach them the ways of dwarves. Bombur remembers well the day Bifur had returned with a drunk and bloodied Bofur. He had slammed the younger down into his chair with such a force it made Bombur’s teeth clatter. Mother stood at the edge of the memory, watching sternly. Bifur would not let Bombur go to his brother’s side and even if he did, Bofur’s thrashing would have caused more damage than good.

Finally, Bifur pulled him up by the shoulders and tossed him down once more into the chair, making Bofur’s jaw clench and his tongue bleed.  
Both Bofur and Bombur had been young then. Bombur barely remembers the cause of the fight but what he does remember is Bofur’s stony glare directed to the ground. He swore Bofur was going to snap and thrash Bifur in his anger. Instead, Bifur came around and broke the tense silence with a loud slap to Bofur’s cheek.

Bombur remembered the suffocating silence as Bofur stared open mouthed and bleeding.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened next. He remember his little feet moving towards Bofur and clambering onto his knee in a worried rush.

It seemed at the instant of little hands clutching Bofur's still-growing beard his rage crumbled and he understood. Bombur was young and always the quiet, soft dwarfling who hid behind his brother's leg. Where Bofur was all energy and carefree smiles, he understood that the moment their father fell in battle it would fall to Bofur to tend to Bombur.

Both brothers learned something that day about responsibility.

Where Bofur had to learn to tend to his kind little brother, Bombur would have to learn to curve the edges of a smile that was much too sharp. But not alone, with Bifur standing by their side, guiding them even now with only half his mind.

Bombur felt a warm hand clasp his shoulder.

"I think it's time you head to bed, eh?" Bofur's eyes were twinkling, and Bombur flushed in embarrassment for getting caught off guard.

Bofur smiled knowingly and helped his brother up before taking Bombur’s seat.

Bombur settled into his bedroll with one last glance at his brother, who returned his gaze with a small nod.

He couldn’t help the warmth uncurling deep in his belly as he laid down for sleep.

If they do fall, if they do strangle each other, Bombur rather thinks it’s worth it. If it gives Bofur or Bifur even the slightest chance at a breath of fresh air and a new world, then yes he’d rather give them his all.


End file.
